Read At The Stroke Of Midnight Online
Authors: Bethany Sefchick
At The Stroke Of Midnight
A Tales From
Seldon Park Novel
By Bethany M.
Sefchick
This book is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as
real.
Any resemblance to actual events,
locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright
ã
2014
Bethany M. Sefchick
All rights reserved
Table of Contents
For Ed
April 1819
"Well, I believe this
qualifies as yet another horrific Devonmont musicale.
We are earning something of a reputation in that regard, I
fear."
Lady Jane Ashford, the
daughter of the Earl of Devonmont, watched as Marcus Cheltenham, the current
Viscount Breckenright, and Benjamin Sinclair, the Duke of Radcliffe hauled a
still protesting - and rather obviously foxed - Lord Norton Drake from her
father's ballroom.
Lady Julia
Radcliffe, Sinclair's wife, trailed serenely behind them, as if she had not
just witnessed her husband and the brother of her best friend threatening to
dispatch the young Lord Drake in any number of terrible - not to mention rather
inventive - ways.
Beside Jane, her friend Lady
Caroline Turner did her best to hide her laughter.
"Look at it this way.
No one will want to miss next year's event.
For two years in a row your musicale has proven to be one of
the
most talked about events of the entire season.
That is a feat many of the
ton
's most elite hostesses cannot
claim."
Caroline was, of course, referring
to the previous year when the misses Henrietta Cartwright and Letitia Worth had
publicly shamed Lady Julia at Jane's event, causing Radcliffe to swoop in to
defend her like a fairy tale knight in shining armor.
Many in the
ton
credited that specific moment as the
beginning of what was now considered to be one of the greatest love matches
that society had ever witnessed.
That
Lady Julia and the duke were now blissfully happy and as rumor had it, with a
child on the way, that only added to the mystique.
"As I am certain Lady X will
no doubt be quick to point out," Jane sighed with just a hint of
melancholy.
She did not bother to
mention to Caroline that, if her father and stepmother had their way, this was
the last musicale Jane would perform at.
Ever.
Laying a hand on her friend's arm,
Caroline's eyes glowed with what looked suspiciously like pity.
"She is not as bad as all that.
In fact, I believe that Lady X will talk up
your event, not disparage it."
Jane turned away rather than allow
her friend to see the true depth of her hurt.
"I pray that you are correct.
For I am certain that my stepmother will not abide a scandal, even a
small one, when she is so desperate to land a title for Lizzie."
However, in Jane's mind, what Angeline and
her willful daughter desired was no longer of any consequence.
Nor did it matter what Lady X wrote about
the evening's events.
There would not
be another musicale.
However Caroline
didn't know that.
Yet.
For a long moment, the two friends
stood there in silence watching the rest of the guests mill about and exchange
gossip as the orchestra tuned up to begin the first set.
Jane was to have preformed that night before
the dancing began, just a small piece on the pianoforte meant to showcase her
musical talents.
However after the
quarrel, which had ended immediately after the viscount had punched Lord Drake
squarely in the jaw, Jane's father thought that dancing might help to soothe the
remaining guests.
There would be no need for her to
play he had said, as Jane's stepmother hovered nearby, soothing her own
daughter - and Jane's half-sister - Elizabeth.
It would only make the evening more confusing and could hurt Lizzie's,
as she was called by family and friends, chances of making a successful match
during this, her debut season.
Being
the good daughter that she was, Jane had merely nodded mutely and turned away
before her father could see the tears that pricked at her eyes.
Not that he was likely to care.
He never did.
Most young women hated to be
"on display like so many bonnets," as Caroline often remarked.
Jane did not.
Oh, it was not that she had a great desire to perform for crowds,
certainly, as that would be unladylike, not to mention unbecoming for the
daughter of an earl.
Rather it was
because she loved to play the pianoforte, and, were she being completely
honest, she thought that she was rather good at it.
Even if she wasn't, in Jane's mind it didn't matter.
When her fingers flew over the keys
and the power of the music swelled inside of her, Jane felt freer than at any
other point in her life.
The music was
her expression, her passion.
She
created the notes.
She
created
the music.
And in her restricted world
where she could do little else, the music was the one thing that fed her soul
and kept her happy.
Not tonight.
Tonight, as was the case most nights as of
late, her father chose to side with his new wife and picked the potential
success of his second daughter over the needs and feelings of his first.
Not that Jane could precisely blame
him, however.
Lizzie was the beauty of the family
with cornflower blue eyes, pale skin and honey gold hair that was the envy of
just about all the other debutantes that season.
She was just the right height, with just the right amount of
curves and the most angelic smile of any girl in all of England.
At least according to her mother.
In truth, Jane could not
disagree.
Especially not when compared
to Jane herself.
At five and twenty,
Jane knew that any charms she might have possessed had dimmed significantly
when she failed to make a match at the end of her first season.
At the time, it hadn't bothered her.
After all, her friends Lady Caroline and
Lady Amy had not made matches either.
Things had changed over time, however, and while Caroline became a
much-sought-after enigma of a woman, and Amy had risen to become
The Paragon
of the
ton
, Jane had stayed precisely where she was - overlooked and
un-remarked upon.
This year, though, things were
changing.
Quickly.
Amy was clearly enamored with Dr. Gibson
Blackwell, the would-be Viscount of Ardenton, and he with her.
There was a scandal brewing between them to
be certain, but neither seemed inclined to care, and Jane was happy for her
friend.
As for Caroline?
Well, if the way her gaze followed the
retreating form of the Viscount Breckenright was any indication, Caroline
clearly longed to be more than friends with the man who had been her steadfast
companion and friend when they were children.
If the heated glance Marcus had given Caro in return was also something
to judge by, then he, too, was seriously considering the possibility of
renewing that friendship and quickly.
As for Jane herself?
She was another story entirely.
And she was still overlooked.
By almost everyone.
Amy and Caroline were true diamonds
of the first water.
They were
beautiful, elegant, poised and as circumspect as any young lady could hope to
be.
Jane?
Well, to put it delicately, she was not.
At a smidge over five foot ten
inches, she was far taller than was considered fashionable, not to mention that
she towered over a good many aristocratic men, who, at least in Jane's opinion
had been bred over the years to be rather on the short side.
She was also far curvier than she should be,
with generous hips and breasts.
Too
generous, if one asked Angeline, her stepmother.
Which happened rather a lot in Jane's opinion.
At least to hear Angeline tell it.
Then there was the matter of her
hair.
In her youth it had been a fiery
red that had thankfully deepened to a lovely copper hue threaded with strands
of mahogany, gold and bronze.
Even
though Jane privately liked her hair, it was still not the color to wish for at
all, no matter the season.
Combined
with her gray-green eyes, the traces of her deceased mother's Scottish ancestry
were rather obvious.
When she was a child, and when her
mother had still been alive, Jane's father had celebrated the fact that his
daughter looked so much like his beloved Catronia, a Highland beauty and
daughter of a viscount that he had quite literally swept off her feet.
Then, when Jane was six, her mother had died
of a fever.
Barely a year later, and to
some hint of scandal, Charles Ashford, the fourth Earl of Devonmont had taken a
new wife.
Their first child, the golden
haired Lizzie, had been born less than a year later, followed in even quicker
succession by a son.
Jane's
half-brother William, who was heir to the Devonmont earldom, was still away at
school, but his absence from the family home didn't matter.
He was the heir so therefore, he would
always hold a place of honor.
Just like
Lizzie, the golden child.
It was clear,
to Jane anyway, that her father now favored his new family over his old one.
Which left her precisely
nowhere.
With her unremarkable looks and
no one to champion her, she had been passed over season after season, though
she supposed she should consider herself fortunate that she had been given a
season at all, let alone many.
Now,
with her advancing age, it was clear that Angeline was worried that Jane's
"near spinster status" would reflect poorly on Lizzie and hurt her
own daughter's chances for making a brilliant match.
Given the way the young bucks all
clamored for even a mere scrap of Lizzie 's attention, Jane didn't think that
was likely, but she was in no position to argue.
It was the same reason why, when her father had gently suggested
that this be Jane's last season, and that she perhaps consider seeking out a
position as a governess or a teacher at one of the new ladies' finishing schools
in the outer reaches of England, she did not protest.
Just as she had not protested
tonight when he had suggested, gently but firmly of course, that she not
play.
Instead, she had just nodded like
the good daughter she was.
Inside,
however, she was both heartbroken and seething with anger at the same
time.
It made for a curious mix of
feelings in the vicinity of her stomach, one she was not at all certain she
liked.
Only Caroline, who now looked at
her with some measure of suspicion, came close to even guessing the truth of
how Jane truly felt.
"Jane?
Did you hear anything that I just
said?" Caroline was looking at her with some measure of concern, and Jane
knew she had been foolish enough to let her mask of cool and polite calm slip.
Just a little.
"Do I need to fetch a doctor?
Or perhaps see if Dr. Blackwell is still waiting to depart?"
Shaking her head, Jane offered her
friend a small smile.
"No,
Caro.
I am fine.
Truly.
Just a little tired, I think.
It
has been a long week."
Mostly of new
dress fittings for Lizzie, but she didn't mention that.
"As long as you are
well."
Then Caro frowned, small
lines marring her otherwise smooth skin.
"I worry about you, Jane.
If
there was something truly amiss, you would tell me, would you not?
I am your friend, and I do not wish to see
you unhappy."
At thirty years of
age, Caroline was a bit older than Jane, but the two were good friends anyway,
probably because Jane herself had never really been a child.
Oh, she had been young in years certainly,
but everyone always remarked at how Jane had always seemed like a miniature
adult, even when she was still falling down and skinning her knees in the
nursery.
After her mother had died, it
had only gotten worse.
Inclining her head, Jane attempted
a cheerier smile.
"I am well,
Caro.
I swear.
Were I not, I would tell you.
I promise."
And she would.
Just as
she would tell Caroline about her father's decision regarding the musicales at
some point in the near future.
But not
tonight.
It was too soon.
He had only just announced his decision the
previous morning and the wound was still too fresh.
Soon though.
She would
tell Caroline soon.
"I shall hold you to
that," Caroline vowed as she linked arms with Jane and began leading her
through the crowd.
"But for now, I
think a glass of lemonade might be in order.
I, for one, am parched after all of that excitement.
And your family's cook does prepare an
excellent lemonade."